


soften

by whereshiphappens (xiiis16)



Series: am i making you [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feelings, M/M, Stiles is a paranoid ball of anxiety, Theo is a teasing little shit, Theo is in Devenford Prep, What else is new, and a bit of explanation on how exactly canon diverges in this universe, and plays lacross for their team, unbeta'd all mistakes are mine, we get some back story in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiiis16/pseuds/whereshiphappens
Summary: Stiles fumbles to open the window, “Theo, what the fuck?!” he whisper-screams, looks around to the neighboring houses. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest.And Theo says “hi.”What- does he-Stiles can’t help but just stare at him. It’s like he lives in another world, seriously. If his neighbors see him, it’s gonna be so much fun explaining to his dad what the hell was some boy doing at Stiles’s window right when the sheriff was on night shift, that’s just amazing timing really.“You can’t just be there!” Stiles says, upper body out of the window at this point, points at Theo’s general direction waving a little like a crazy person, furrowed brow and exasperated look on his face that only gets worse just as Theo jumps off his truck to run towards the house and starts climbing up to Stiles’ window like it’s nothing, reaches a open mouthed Stiles, hooks his hand up and inside on the top of the window to keep his balance.“Was that my invite in?”
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Theo Raeken
Series: am i making you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1157144
Comments: 38
Kudos: 196





	soften

**Author's Note:**

> back again! after a million years, I know. 
> 
> so this part totally got away from me, it is Huge, and i apologize. i meant to do this story in three parts after i decided to write a sequel, i made a whole plan, and then i failed to keep to it, as always. 
> 
> that being said, there is a final part coming. i just hope to not take almost two (TWO) fucking years to get it out smh.
> 
> so if anyone's still out there, waiting for this, reading this, thank you so much. i have no words to describe how warm and fuzzy i feel inside every time i get comments and kudos on this series. 
> 
> thank you, enjoy, my loves

* * *

Lydia looks deep in thought as she slowly paces from one side of Stiles’ room to the other. She’s playing with her fingers, facial expressions changing as she processes whatever is going through her head. She hasn’t said a single thing in the last five minutes, and Stiles is sitting cross legged on his bed, elbows resting on his knees and hand supporting his head. He’s bouncing his knee, it has been at least two whole minutes of silence and the girl is driving him _insane_.

“Lydia, will you just _verbalize_ whatever the hell is going through your head right now, please!” his mind is getting away from him and he’s starting to overthink everything and feeling all sorts of weird about it now and-. 

She stops and turns to him, purses her lips, contemplative. He throws his arms out in an abrupt movement, his shoulders go up along with his eyebrows, giving Lydia a look to incite her to _just talk, for god’s sake_. “So, tell me if I got this right,” she begins, bringing her hand up to extend her fingers as she starts enumerating. “This gorgeous dude from another school is into you - or rather two, but let’s keep Brett out of this equation,” she adds the last part throwing a smile at Stiles that huffs, feeling his cheeks get hotter. That’s- another story. “You are also into him, because this guy seems to check out all the boxes for you, but he’s a bit of an asshole and you don’t trust him so you refuse to let things flow. However you’ve touched each other’s dicks. Like twice. Because you can’t help yourself around him.” 

Stiles takes a deep breath, getting just a little annoyed. Because there’s just a little hint of sarcastic confusion in the way Lydia is talking. Like this whole thing is ridiculously simple and Stiles is being a dramatic asshole. He doesn’t like that tone and the throws a dirty look at Lydia. “Little detail you forgot there,” his sarcastic ass tells her, “he’s also a supernatural creature.” 

The redhead pulls a face, shakes her head looking at Stiles like that really is an irrelevant detail. Stiles groans.

“Listen, he’s trouble, you don’t _know_ him,” Stiles argues. He was kind of hoping that Lydia could maybe not play devil’s advocate and tell him to stay away from Theo and from problems and help him convince himself of that, actually, but- well, here he is. Lydia raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, and you do?” She crosses her arms, looks at him amused “after being with him twice?” her shoulders go up in a shrug and she frowns again in that sarcastic, exaggerated way, “did you, what, suck his life story out of his dick while you were at it?” Stiles’ eyes go wide and he brings a hand to cover his very hot, reddening face.

“Oh my god, _Lydia!_ ” he moans in complaint. Seriously, he’s still coming to terms with the fact that he _sucked a dick_ last night, the whole thing feels a little surreal still and yeah, okay, he doesn’t regret it, but he’s also kind of still processing that he did that. It’s kind of- not a _big deal_ per se, but. It was something new that he did with an actual person, _to_ an actual person. Takes a little getting used to, gives him this sorta erratic energy and when he really remembers, brings a heat to his gut that leaves him just a little winded. Excuse him for getting a little light headed and getting weird feelings while processing that he shared that intimate thing with another person.

Hearing her say it out loud makes it seem more real.

Lydia chuckles, uncrosses her arms and moves to sit next to him on the bed.

“Sorry, that was-,” she’s smiling apologetically at him, probably reading his virgin panic all over his face. “What I mean is, this could be something good that you’re throwing away on a very shallow impression. Have you talked to this guy properly?” 

Stiles bites his lip, stares at his phone on the bed, “not really…” he tells her. Lydia pats his knee.

“Well, you should,” she advises and Stiles turns to look at her, frowning just a little as he thinks about it. “How are you supposed to figure this out without talking to him? Who knows, he might be a good, genuinely decent, and nice guy beneath all that- everything.” The smile on her face turns into a mischievous little smirk and she shrugs, “Or not. That doesn’t mean you have to stop fooling around if you don’t want to - assholes make for great practice,” she winks.

Stiles laughs. Yeah, actually now that he considers all the guys Lydia has dated, Stiles just knows he won’t be judged by her for being into someone like Theo. That’s reassuring at the very least. Maybe some part of his subconscious knew this already and that’s why he came to her first. To be fair, Lydia is kind of right. Stiles could just talk to Theo, see where that goes. Perhaps he’ll finally find out something about that idiot that turns him off him and ends this whole thing and all of Stiles’ problems. Yeah. 

He turns to look at his phone again. Maybe he could, like, check a profile of Theo’s online. Could leave a like on his photos or something. Just a hint. He could do that.

He doesn’t expect the notification barely a minute before he pressed that damned like button, telling him he received a message - or rather a photo via chat, from Theo. Stiles can’t really control the twist his stomach does or how his face goes hot all of a sudden.

Lydia is already leaning into him, looking at his phone, urging him to “open it, for god’s sake!”

And Stiles does, opens the message, sees the photo that shows a shirtless Theo in some place with a shitty lighting, his perfect teeth biting his bottom lip and a smile off his mouth at one edge on the image, the hem of his jeans at the other.

Lydia lets out a chuckle, “ _oh my god”_ whispered amusingly and Stiles gets hot all over; especially when his eyes set on the message it came with. _Feisty little kitten._ Stiles frowns confused as he brings his phone closer to better analyse the image. What the hell is Theo even on about-

But then he sees the red scratches on his skin by his hips, just where the hem of his jeans rest and with an uncontrollable heat that makes him go a little light-headed, Stiles realizes that _he did that_ . In a crashing wave, he suddenly realises _those_ are yesterday’s jeans and _that_ is the same fucking bathroom - he took that photo just after Stiles sucked his dick!

“Oh my _god_ ,” Stiles lets out, backing off the message. Jesus Christ, this fucking- this _provocative_ little bastard. His face is on fire and Stiles is thinking of what to answer to that - if he should answer at all, when he notices the photo on his feed as well, on the bottom of the page. He added-

Fumbling for a second to scroll down, Stiles’ heart speeds up, “oh my _fucking_ god!” he exclaims as he realizes Theo made the picture public. He’s gonna- Stiles is gonna _murder him_.

Before he can say anything else, Lydia snatches the phone from him to take a better look. She seems to think this whole ordeal is highly entertaining because she’s still smiling, with a mischievous little glint in her eye. “Is it too soon to say I kinda like him?” she mumbles. Stiles is covering his face, groaning, “do you _see_ what I mean?” he turns to Lydia, exasperated. She doesn’t need to know where or when that was taken, although, considering the whole supernatural aspect of him that Stiles just told her about, which ensues this cool thing called super fast healing, he’s sure Lydia could figure that out if he gave her a second. Not that it’s relevant or anything, the unashamed act of provocation kind of outshines those details.

Theo’s doing it to fuck with Stiles, he’s absolutely certain of it and he wants to walk all the way over to wherever the hell he is and punch him in the face, he can practically see the smug cocky smile on his face right now.

“Could’ve been worse,” Lydia offers, giving him his phone back. Yeah, Stiles knows, it’s not like he’s identified in the picture or- or like you could absolutely see what kind of marks those were if you didn’t know; but still this is all so uncalled for! 

_‘Will you stop being such a goddamn asshole?’_ is what Stiles types on his message back to him. It’s seen automatically and Lydia stands up from the bed and makes to grab her bag with the most satisfied grin on her face, “Well, you got the rest of your saturday afternoon planned for you,” she winks, walking backwards towards the door. “Pick me up later to go to Scott’s?” Stiles looks at her with pursed lips in an annoyed and somewhat desperate expression.

“You’re gonna leave me _now?_ ” he says dramatically and Lydia rolls her eyes. “You’ll be fine!” she reassures anyway, “text me if you need help and don’t forget to pick me up later.” Lydia throws a kiss at him before closing the door, just as Stiles’ phone vibrates in his hands with Theo’s answer.

 _‘What, and risk not capturing your attention, kitten?’_

Stiles’ fingers are drumming against the steering wheel as he waits for Lydia to walk down her driveway and get into the jeep. His face is locked in a frown and he’s worrying on his bottom lip and as soon as Lydia closes the jeep door and takes a look at him, she squints suspiciously.

“What happened?” she asks, turning her body to face him properly. Yeah, okay, best to probably talk about this here and get it out of the way before going to meet the other supernatural creatures with super hearing and chemosignal detectors.

“He asked me to go watch their next game.” Stiles tells her. Lydia rises her eyebrows.

“And… do you want to go?” she asks him, and honestly, the thing is, Stiles doesn’t know. He was in the middle of scolding Theo, telling him to stop being... like _that_ , before he got Stiles in trouble and out of nowhere Theo just told him that. ‘ _Come to our next game’._ Just like that. And Stiles thought about the idea of showing up at Devenford Prep - he even checked if they were playing home or not - and while the thought of seeing Theo again sent some very uncomfortable flying things crazy in his belly that he’s never going to admit to out loud, the idea of anyone else _seeing him_ there made this anxiety creep up his spine that had him abandoning the whole thing altogether. 

“I don’t know,” he tells Lydia, pulling a face, fidgeting with his fingers. Lydia nods, looks out the windshield like she’s thinking and then turns her head to him again, “what did you tell him?”

Right, that. Stiles shrugs, mumbles something under his breath and answers her “nothing.” She frowns. “And when exactly did he send you that message?” she inquires, her eyebrows raising amused, like she already knows the answer is going to be something ridiculous. Stiles huffs, looks at her. Goddamn this girl for knowing him so well. “I don’t know, like, three hours ago.”

Lydia laughs, turning her body and sitting properly on her seat. She brings a hand up to comb through her hair, “god, you really are terrible at texting,” she comments between laughs.

“I don’t know what to tell him, Lydia!” Stiles lets out defensively, shoulders raised and palms up, probably looking as clueless as he feels. Damn it, he hates this. He hates this so much.

“Alright, okay!” she says, her laughter calming into chuckles. “So it just stopped there?”

Once again, Stiles shrugs, “I guess he’s waiting for me to answer.” Looking at Stiles, Lydia nods slowly, her lips tight in a line but her whole expression open, “that’s nice, he’s giving you space to think about it. You know, instead of pressuring for an answer.”

Staring ahead, Stiles bites his lip. Well. Yeah. Or maybe the lack of insistence means that he put the invite out there and already regretted it and is just hoping Stiles won’t say anything and forget about it. Bringing a hand to his forehead, Stiles groans. Fuck his brain. He’s going on a fucking tangent and reaching and being stupid and he _knows_ it. Theo is probably indeed just giving Stiles time and space to think about it. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Lydia suggests in a light voice. Stiles looks at her. That- he could probably do that. “Will you?” he asks eyes wide, hopeful suddenly. Holy shit, yes, Lydia coming along would work fine. It would look like they were coming over to support friends, a couple of besties with nothing better to do on a friday night or something, instead of anything more incriminating. He wouldn’t have _Brett_ thinking Stiles came to see him or something weird like that. Good.

“Sure,” she smiles at him, reaches out her hand to grab Stiles’ and squeezes reassuringly, “now answer the guy, forget about this whole thing for tonight, and let's go.” Stiles smiles at her, scratches his eyebrow as he pulls out his phone to text Theo back. 

He doesn’t forget the whole thing for the night, because when they reach Scott’s house, there’s an answer from Theo on his phone. ‘ _Good Kitten’._ And Stiles feels his face heat up as he crosses the threshold. ‘ _Stop with the kitten thing!’_ Stiles demands. 

He can’t really forget anything, with Theo answering straight away ‘ _I like to picture you blushing about the kitten thing’_ . He barely gets to say anything as a greeting to Scott, typing his answer ‘ _I might punch you next time I see you’._ They sit on the sofa to watch their movie, Kira is setting the take out bags on the coffee table and Stiles is standing up again, Lydia’s eyes on him, because his phone is vibrating with Theo’s answer. And Stiles knows for sure he won’t be able to forget a damn thing tonight as soon as he reads it. ‘ _I might get off on it.’_

So he pockets his phone again, swallowing hard, gets just a hint of irrationally annoyed at this shameless bastard, and not answering because. Well, _because._ And he mentally thanks Scott and Kira for ignoring whatever signals Stiles is giving off, and whoever is in charge of the universe that Malia hasn’t got here yet.

  
  


“I have a question,” Lydia says, and she sits down next to Stiles on the bleaches. He looks over at her with a questioning look. She’s rubbing her hands together - it’s quite cold tonight. “Did Theo also invite you to the after game party they always do?”

His eyes wander off to the field in from of them again. The game is about to start, everyone’s lining up, getting into position and Stiles is trying very hard not to look like a maniac trying to find number eighty three. “No…” Stiles tells her, makes himself look down at his hands, pulling on the sleeves of his jacket - why would she ask him that?

“What if he does?” she presses. Stiles sighs, starts fidgeting, and he doesn’t know what to answer her. Doesn’t know why she’s asking, he’s nervous enough as it is - for some stupid reason - he doesn’t need to think about that. If Theo asks him to go he just won’t. Simple. He can’t, in fact.

“I’m not going,” Stiles answers, shrugging at her wanting to terminate this discussion, bringing his thumb towards his mouth, nibbling at his nail.

“Why not?” 

“Jesus, Lydia, what’s with all the questioning?” Stiles snaps, eyebrows pinched as he turns to her, the nervous energy going all through him making him gesticulate like an idiot. Lydia bites off the smile from her face, pats his knee, “Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out if you have a good reason or if you’re just self sabotaging.” Stiles huffs - yeah, that’s a thing he does, he guesses. But he does have a good reason.

“I have to study-” he starts and immediately a sharp laugh bursts out past Lydia’s lips, that she hurries to cover with her hands. Stiles looks at her indignantly - what the hell, he _does_!

She’s still laughing behind her hand, the amused glint in her eyes making Stiles roll his eyes.

“That’s really funny,” she continues, her voice high and she fights back the laugher. Pouting, with an unimpressed look towards her, Stiles crosses his arms and just waits for Lydia to get over it. He does need to study, okay, he needs to study not because he’s struggling with his grades or trying to pass his tests, no - he needs to study because things have been blessedly _normal_ around here, no alpha packs coming in, or evil fox spirits, or deadpools in sight, and Stiles needs to study because he needs that piece of normality back into his life - he can’t remember the last time he dedicated himself to school work without a threat in the back of his head to distract him. And he misses it. And he wants at least that back.

So yeah, he wants to be a normal teenager and stay home and _study_ . And... he doesn’t want to go to an after game party and deal with all of _that_.

“Seriously, though,” Lydia says sobering up, her hand falling on his arm, her head leaning on his shoulder for a second, “it’s none of my business, you do whatever you want and are comfortable with.”

Stiles mumbles a ‘thanks’ under his breath and inhales slowly. Then, he spots Theo casually jogging up the field, to the center of it and he feels his heart ridiculously leap in his chest. There’s a nervous fuzzy feeling settling in his gut, spreading across his chest and Stiles has to clear his throat to tell Lydia, pointing, that “That’s him, eighty three.”

Lydia nods, her chin raised as she tries to get a better look, just as Theo turns around to face the bleachers - he keeps walking backwards and Stiles is already feeling his whole face heat up as he sees Theo’s eyes roaming, until he finds Stiles. From this distance, he can’t properly see his whole face, but he can picture the satisfied grin, the glint in his eye and Stiles’ eyes widen when Theo’s free hand raises slowly - and waves.

“Oh,” Lydia lets out, impressed, just as Stiles mumbles a quiet _oh my god._ And then he almost jumps out of his seat to reach the hand Lydia shoots up in the air, to wave back at Theo. “Lydia!” he whisper-yells, retrieving her hand.

“What? Oh my god, Stiles, calm down,” she whispers back, taking his hand in hers, squeezing, “you’re behaving like a soccer mom who’s having an affair with the kid’s coach.” Stiles scoffs, all nervous energy, “oddly specific,” he comments under his breath, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Relax, you ball of paranoia, it’ll be fine, I’m right here,” Lydia tells him, takes his hand to her lap, covers it with her free one, patting it gently. Stiles takes a deep breath, tries to relax in his seat, and the game starts.

  
  


Lydia is on the phone by the time the game ends, and the bleachers start emptying as the people go down to either leave, or meet the players by the field. It doesn’t keep her from nodging Stiles and gesturing for him to go. He pulls a face at her, his lips a thin line as he inhales deeply, and her eyes widen in warning, not a hiccup in her conversation. So, Stiles looks at the field, his dumb heart hammering in his chest with nerves and he hates it so much he actually scowls at himself.

Stiles can’t even spot Theo in the middle of so many people anymore, he’s not really sure what Lydia wants him to _fucking do_ , but okay! He stands up, looks back at her, with his face contorted in some sort of annoyed expression and it only earns him an actual push, Lydia’s hand on his thigh urging him to move as she crosses her legs, gets _comfortable_ in her seat. 

Huffing, he moves towards the stairs to get down, keeps glancing up trying to find that dumb idiot because- well. It’s what he’s supposed to do, right? If Theo told him to come, he wants to hang out or something, no? Ask Stiles if he liked the game… right? 

He stops in his tracks as he reaches the end of the stairs and suddenly feels stupid. Maybe it’s nothing like that, maybe he was just invited to watch them play and that’s it because Theo thinks he likes the game also. That’s why he can’t find Theo, because he’s already gone because what would he even talk to Stiles about, what-

His train of thought is interrupted as, seemly out of the blue, Brett Talbot walks into his line of sight, helmet in hand, lazy smile on his face and sweaty curls sticking to his forehead and he says “hey.” 

Stiles’ mouth is hanging open - he notices it too late, snaps it shut and is sure it only makes him look stupider than the rest of his face already does. “Hi,” he remembers to answer, although a bit late. Brett doesn’t seem to mind, he shifts his weight on his feet casually and smiles widder, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here, hope you liked the game.”

And, oh lord, Brett is definitely not the Devenford Prep boy Stiles wants to be having this conversation with, but he guesses the Universe is feeling funny, or something. He tries to think of something that absolutely does not give Brett the impression that he came to see him or something just as awkward. “Yeah, I came with Lydia, uh-” he looks back at the spot she’s sitting for good measure, sees Brett looking up as well when he turns back around. “she practically dragged me here, so,” he gives Brett a little close mouthed smile, shuffling in place, sticking his hands down the pockets of his jeans, shoulders up.

“I didn’t know you kept up with Devenford’s schedule,” Brett remarks in this suggestive voice, eyebrows raising and _oh fucking god_ _above_ , he’s definitely fishing for something here and, wow, does Stiles want the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. Because what the fuck can he say now - you know, besides the _truth_ , - that will convince Brett that Stiles is most definitely not here to see him?

“I don’t, “ Stiles starts, and Brett’s expression only gets more amused and Stiles doesn’t really think about much, besides making Brett believe Stiles is _not_ here for him, says “we were invited,” and immediately, _immediately_ regrets saying it.

Brett’s expression changes, though, so there’s that, and he lets out a _oh_ , curious, turning his head to the side slightly. “Uhm, yeah,” Stiles finds himself fidgeting. Brett frowns suddenly, some thought crossing his mind.

“By whom?” Brett presses, narrowing his eyes and _fuck_ Stiles doesn’t want to answer that question, he really doesn’t, so he stumbles over his words, opening and closing his mouth pathetically. He can’t remember a single fucking name on the entire team, even if he wanted to throw Brett off. How the hell did he get here?

Past Brett’s shoulder he finds Theo, casually swinging his lacrosse stick over his shoulders as he talks to some guys. Helmet in hand, red cheeked and sweaty and _gorgeous_ as ever. Stiles finds himself stuttering further, eyes glued to Theo trying to find any valid answer that doesn’t involve the other boy but finding it impossible with the tangle of fuzzy things suddenly crawling up to his chest. 

He almost watches Brett turn around to follow Stiles’ gaze with a frown in slow motion in his brain. He can sense the moment Brett realises it with the way his body tenses and his whole face is so much more serious, looking almost bothered as he concludes “ _Theo_.”

Brett shakes his head, smiles, but there isn’t a hint of humour in it, not really. Stiles is still, kind of holding his breath, as he watches Brett return his gaze. “Should’ve known he’d make a move,” Brett mumbles, under his breath, probably more to himself than Stiles, but Stiles catches it anyway. He shakes his head at Brett, opens his mouth even though he’s got no idea what to say that will make Brett not catch up to it, like, _entirely_.

“I’m not-” he starts, weakly, but Brett lifts his head, smiles gently at Stiles, interrupting. “Listen, he’s. New. I get it,” there’s definitely something more behind that, it feels charged and it’s Stiles’ time to frown. Brett must pick up on it, because he inhales, says “But you don’t know him. I just think that if you did, you wouldn’t-” he trails off, biting his lip as he sees the expression on Stiles’ face. Because honestly, what _the hell_ is Stiles even hearing?

Brett ends up laughing, kind of in defeat, tongue in cheek and he shakes his head, “nevermind, I know you can take care of yourself,” he says instead, a genuine smile coming back to his lips, “so,” he pauses, “take care, Stiles,” and he winks at Stiles, before taking off towards the general direction of the locker rooms.

Stiles isn’t even aware of the amount of times he opens and closes his mouth, _again_ . Or the faces he pulls, or even if he makes a single sound as he stands there, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. His brain is a tangled mess trying to process the information because it sure has hell sounded like Brett had something to say, it sure sounded like he _knows_ something that Stiles doesn’t and it starts a fucking _itch_ in Stiles’ brain that he can’t fucking deal with.

“Should I go after him, kick his ass for you?” Theo’s voice startles Stiles and he turns around to find him just a couple feet away, arm casually draped over the railing of the bleachers. Theo’s eyes are all shiny with mischief and some sort of amusement that Stiles can’t quite place, and _God_ , he looks amazing, hair all tousled from his helmet, sweaty strands sticking out in some places, cheeks red from the workout - it’s a sight to take in, and Stiles’ brain short circuits.

“What?” he finds himself asking, sounding lost and, quite frankly stupid even to his own ears.

Theo smiles, bites his bottom lip and straightens up, takes a step towards Stiles with a lightness that is all smooth confidence, lacrosse stick in hand, still.

“You got this whole look on your face, I’m guessing it was something Talbot said,” Stiles straightens his shoulders up as well, clears his throat and shuts his mouth that was hanging open helplessly and he can’t quite help it when his eyes get drawn to Theo’s legs, watching him step closer, instinctively taking a step back himself. He’s not sure why - it’s really hard to think when Theo is this close and there’s so many people around them.

“Like a confused lost puppy,” Theo continues, frowning a little, but he stops moving and then there’s a smile ripping across his face as he stares Stiles down, lowers his chin and Stiles knows, he just _knows_ there’s a provokation coming from that look and the way his lips curl into that trademark smirk. “Lost _kitten,”_ he corrects in a low voice.

It jolts something in Stiles automatically, even as the words are leaving his mouth, a sort of irritation and uneasiness that climbs up his body in a heat, and suddenly he’s unable to stand still, looking everywhere but at Theo. 

“Damn it, you’re unbelievable,” Stiles huffs, bringing a hand up to his head, feeling the ridiculous heat on his face contrast against the skin of his palm. “So, uh, yeah, thanks for the invite, nice seeing you, I’m leaving,” Stiles blurts out, rushed, ready to make for the stairs to call Lydia and just go, because, there’s really no way he can stay here with Theo without self combusting - be it because of irritation, or anxiety or the absolutely overwhelming want to be touching that bastard all over, right now.

But Theo cuts Stiles’ path off, extends his lacrosse stick over the railing effectively keeping him from climbing the stairs, “Will you _stop_ running away from me?” Theo says with an eye roll and an amused little curl to his lips.

He’s not running away - Stiles is _not_ running away. He’s got to go, Lydia is waiting, he’s got stuff to do before it gets late. It was all planned out, he’s not running away.

“I’m not-” he stops himself, as he realises how defensive he sounds. Theo drops his stick slowly and raises his eyebrows at Stiles, prompting him to finish the sentence and lie right to Theo’s face. He sighs, “Lydia’s waiting for me.” he says instead, palm extended as he points at his friend, you know, for good measure. 

Theo looks up as well and. Lydia’s still on her phone, looking pretty comfortable on her seat. She notices them looking up and throws a smile and a wave their way, continuing her conversation.

“Yeah, sure she is…” Theo drags as he looks back at Stiles and the sarcasm is palpable in the air between them. _Stupid prick_.

Stiles’ lips stretch into a thin tense line and he’s almost crossing his arms on his chest like a frustrated little kid as he stands his ground and actively refuses to look at Theo. Instead he watches the people around them, slowly dispersing, emptying the place. 

It's just that… _God_ , this guy manages to get so deep under Stiles’ skin, messes with his brain so much he can barely trust himself not to do something incredibly embarrassing. It might have something to do with how the images of both of them that Friday, on a stranger's bathroom keep coming to his head and making him feel hot all over. Theo is right in front of him now - the memories feel even more real. And it's so damn hard to deal with, to look Theo in the eyes without feeling like he might catch on fire.

“So, did you like the game?” Theo asks instead, voice all soft and Stiles looks back at him to find a little smile on the corner of his mouth arm outstretched over the railing once more, fingers casually tapping it. 

Takes Stiles a minute to decide how to answer that - there's a million rude answers on his tongue and the vague thought to just walk away and leave Theo talking alone, but. He doesn't want to sound like an annoyed fed up asshole either. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Stiles turns his body towards Theo, stands properly and shrugs trying to be all casual about it, look a little more friendly, - feels all kinds of awkward, _how the fuck_ Theo does it, is beyond Stiles. He almost winces. “I already knew you guys were good since, you know, you kicked our asses,” he trails off.

Theo nods, throws this look Stiles’ way, raising his eyebrows once, just a tiny bit suggestive, “that was a nice game,” he comments, and his voice is so charged with _something_ as his eyes go down Stiles’ body and he licks his lips. It gets Stiles hot all over, and he’s thinking about that night again, and what they did, and the party long after that, and being on his fucking knees for Theo and- _oh, holy shit_.

And the thing is, he just stands there all cool and laid back while teasing the fuck out of Stiles, displaying a level of confidence and arrogance that gets on Stiles’ nerves in such a way, there’s an irrational part of his brain that just wants to jump on this guy right here. Make him lose his cool, be the mess he was in that bathroom, whining, telling Stiles that he wasn’t gonna last if Stiles kept looking at him like that.

 _Fuck_ , Stiles wishes he had that look pinpointed, wishes he knew how to do it again, how to just unleash all of that on Theo without a warning and see him squirm about it right here, in front of everyone - just like Theo keeps doing to him. 

Theo has the audacity to chuckle when Stiles doesn’t answer. “You just… you _live_ to annoy me, don’t you?” Stiles finds himself asking, giving up on trying to find anything clever to answer Theo with. It comes out almost bratty and it does nothing but make Theo smile wider.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Lydia making her way down the stairs and looks up at her, Theo’s eyes following his gaze.

“Hi!” she greets both of them as soon as she’s close enough to be heard and gives Stiles a look, has him clearing his throat, hands awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he mumbles that “this is my friend Lydia, and Lydia this is-,” he pauses for whatever reason. “This is Theo,” he continues, as Theo extends his gloved hand and offers it to Lydia, to help her get down the rest of the steps saying _hi_ back to her.

“Sorry about all that,” she says to Stiles, smiles at Theo, talking about the endless phone call that made her leave him completely alone, thank you very much. “I was trying to help Malia with her homework, but I think I might just have to actually go over to her house,” she says, sort of apologetic, mouth in a thin line. 

“Oh, you’re not coming to the after game party?” Theo says, almost actually pouts and _wow_ this guy is good, he’s trying to win Lydia over with his charms, isn’t he? Smart fucker.

“No,” Stiles says butting in before Lydia has the chance.

But it’s Lydia they’re talking about here. “Well, _I’m_ not. Stiles, you can still go.”

Stiles turns to her, bit of a obviously fake smile on his face and eyes wide in warning at the girl because, what in hell is she doing, they already talked this over! “ _Lydia_ ,” he says, pressed, “I can’t. Besides, _you_ ’re my ride home.”

“I can drive you home, if you want,” Theo offers, because, of course he does. Lydia smiles back at him, big smile on her face as she turns her head slightly, nodding appreciatively, kind of daring him to say no, and oh _lord_ he hates her. He actually hates her.

He’s not going!

“No, listen,” he starts, moving his weight on his feet, facing Theo, all serious “I really can’t, I need to be home early.” 

Lydia doesn’t say anything, and Theo stares at him for a moment, playing with his lacrosse stick absentmindedly as he seems to consider Stiles’ answer. “Okay,” Theo says. For a moment the tension in Stiles’ shoulder deflates a little, (and at the same time, a pang of disappointment hits his chest and he doesn’t want to acknowledge its meaning), but then Theo’s opening his mouth again.

“Let me drive you home, anyway,” he asks, bites his lip, “we can stop on the way for ice cream. I promise I’ll get you home early.” 

Stiles is sure that if Lydia could she would be shaking Stiles’ arm right now to get him to wake up, go, _compromise_ , take the hint!, if her face is anything to go by.

He thinks about it. Gets a little annoyed at himself how he doesn’t even have to dwell too much on it, his answer is already on the tip of his tongue; it’s just stubborn pride that keeps him quiet, fake thinking for a little while longer.

“Alright,” he concedes, almost lets a smile break across his lips at Theo’s satisfied little face, “just cause I really feel like ice cream,” he adds in a mumble.

  
  


Theo doesn’t take too long, but as he waits alone sitting in some nearby benches for him, his thoughts start getting away from him, once again, and he’s starting to regret this whole thing. 

From a general point of view this was a very _very_ stupid idea - realistically speaking Stiles doesn’t really know Theo, being alone with him, letting him know where his house is sounds like just about the dumbest thing he can think of.

(He totally makes a mental note to ask Theo to stop some streets over instead of stopping by his driveway.)

His leg is bouncing and he’s gripping the fabric of the inside of his pockets as he curls his hands into fists, glancing towards where Theo disappeared to go shower and change.

Stiles sighs. This is how dates work, though, his brain provides, and at least Lydia knows where he’s supposed to be and Theo’s face and what Stiles is wearing and his dad’s phone number…

He kind of loses track of his thoughts when he realises that the word _date_ was conjured by his mind to describe what’s about to happen. And he feels to need to backtrack to it.

It is _not_ a date. It’s a ride home. It’s a damn excuse to be near Theo.

He ignores that last part vehemently, also. 

Theo comes out of the building just about then, gym bag on one hand, the other still shaking his wet hair. Stiles has a first thought to get up, but somehow gets distracted, stays put looking as Theo approaches, taking advantage of the darkness to check him out. He isn’t even subtle about it, but Theo still isn’t quite looking his way, busy with his hair, and there’s no one around, so Stiles doesn’t really care too much about the obviousness. 

He’s wearing Devenford’s dark green hoodie and he looks all soft with his wet hair, smiles lazily at Stiles when he gets close enough and Stiles’ obnoxious brain flashes a scene at his mind’s eye of sleeping curled up to that hoodie, and how comfortable it must be and Stiles _hates_ how it pulls at something incredibly needy and clingy in his chest.

He gets up, rubs his hands on his jeans to work out the tension of the muscles and gives Theo a close mouthed smile back. It’s awkward, he can feel it. It’s awkward so he stops and mentally smacks himself. This is going great already.

The thing is, it isn’t awkward for Theo. Not given the way he’s walking casually with Stiles towards his truck, light steps with that swing to it that almost makes Stiles groan with how naturally it happens. Only an asshole full of himself would carry himself like that and Stiles has to look away and focus on something else before his instincts have him either punching Theo in the face or. Something else. Like what happened the last time he was inside this truck.

It’s basically impossible not to have his cheeks burning up at the memory - it's getting fucking ridiculous to be honest.

There must be something on Stiles’ face that gives him away big time - you know, besides the whole blushing thing he’s trying to hide - because when Theo sits and closes the door, he just needs the few seconds it takes the light to fade out looking at Stiles to give him this sideways closed smile, asking “you alright?”

He knows what Stiles is thinking about, Stiles is absolutely sure and he gets just a little restless and annoyed at how his every ability to control himself just goes out of the damn window under the heat Theo’s stare on him provokes. Stiles feels it slipping away and it’s like the harder he tries to hold on to it the worse it gets. The fact that Theo won’t look away doesn’t help at all and he’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, feeling his mouth getting just a little dry with anxiety and his leg bounce nervously. _Fuck’s sake!_ his mind is on a loop.

Theo moves, turns his body towards him and calls his name “Stiles,” his head slightly inclined, looking to catch his gaze. When Stiles looks over, Theo repeats “you’re alright,” only this time it isn’t a question and his voice is all smooth as he reaches over, his finger catches Stiles’ fidgeting hand and hooks around his thumb to pull softly and make him stop. 

It’s just a moment, it’s just this second in which Theo is kind of holding his hand, brushes his fingers over Stiles’ gently and it’s what makes it _something else_ that leaves Stiles staring like he’s never seen a hand before. It’s so dumb, but the softness catches him by surprise, and not for the first time he gets this sense of almost wonder looking at Theo, caught off guard, like always.

It lasts the whole ride, but Theo makes it easy for him and turns the radio on, getting rid of the silence. It isn’t awkward for Theo, and somehow it doesn’t feel awkward for Stiles either anymore, and he relaxes in his seat a bit. 

He’s not one to stay in silence for too long, though.

“Are we really going for ice cream?” Stiles asks - his voice scratches a little in his throat and he swallows. He throws a glance at Theo from the corner of his eye, brings his hand up to his hair to try and appear casual; not like it will do much of anything, Theo can probably practically taste the anxiety coming from him at this point.

“Of course we are,” Theo says, voice a soft rumble wrapped in a smile that Stiles can _hear_ . “And then we’ll get you home. _Early_ ,” he teases on the last word, smirk in place. Stiles throws him a dirty look for it.

He doesn’t even notice the truck stopping to be honest, a little too distracted with coming up with something to answer Theo with - he’s got a hard time shutting up, yes, and it so seems he has a harder time still with letting Theo having any sort of final word also, apparently.

“I’ve got things to do,” Stiles informs him matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised in a challenging look that Theo meets as soon as he breaks and turns off the car. 

“Oh, you do, do you?” Theo keeps teasing, “I’m surprised you found the time to come see me playing, since you’re _so_ busy.” 

And Stiles would be lying if he said the way Theo rises up to him, teases him further instead of letting it be, isn’t one of the things that keeps him so hooked on _this._ He finds himself answering before his brain processes what he’s got to say, “Well, I figured I had to come personally and kick your ass to get you to stop with your fuckboy antics.” He punctuates it with a fakely innocent smile.

The one that spreads across Theo’s face is anything but fake _or_ innocent, the glint in his eyes tells Stiles just that. There’s a pause of just staring, charged with this electric tension that seems to surround them both _all the damn time_. 

Theo moves then to leave the truck and Stiles does the same, with this sensation of fuzzy anxiety on his stomach dropping to his legs the moment he stands up and, _fuck_ , it’s embarrassing how suddenly it’s like he has no idea how his legs work or how people walk casually when they aren’t filled to the brim with this crazy expectation for fuck knows what, really. 

“What exactly classifies as fuckboy antics,” Theo carries on as he makes his way around the truck to join Stiles on the sidewalk, pauses meaningfully before adding “ _kitten_?”

Stiles breathes out a laugh, _fuck this dickhead_ , he knows. He knows what he’s doing _so well_ it angers Stiles - because it works. Even if he gives his damn best to ignore how the nickname makes something tingle down his spine faintly, and rolls his eyes at Theo for good measure as he follows him. Theo has this look on his face like getting a reaction out of Stiles is what he lives for.

“I fucking hate you,” Stiles lets out in a murmur wrapped in a breathy laugh, and Theo chuckles looking at him as they make their way down the sidewalk, the tongue in cheek kind of laugh and he reaches across to bump his shoulder into Stiles’ affectionately.

Once again, Stiles pretends it doesn’t _do things_ to him, continues to blab on instead as Theo stops. “It’s like you all learn from the same book or something, like,” he stops to think as Theo reaches a door, “Like there’s some sort of online course or something on how to be _little shits_ that annoy the rest of us into oblivion-” Stiles trails off, looks up at the front of the, apparently, ice cream store to double check where they are when he sees Theo gripping the knob of the very much closed door. As in lights off, closed sign on, no one on the inside sort of closed.

“Excuse me, what the hell are you doing?” He blinks several times as Theo, with that damned supernatural strength just twists the knob, breaks the lock and pries the door just slightly open. He turns around to look at Stiles frowning, like he just asked the dumbest question in the whole universe.

“Getting into the ice cream shop, how else are we supposed to get ice cream?” 

Stiles’ mouth drops open, palm outstretched towards the general direction of the window of the shop, “Theo, it is _closed_!” He exclaims, voice going higher in pitch, lower in volume as he looks all around them. There’s no one on the street besides the cars driving by in the one of the main roads off to the other side.

Theo smiles at him, as he steps in, the little bell on top of the door jingling “very perceptive, like always.” Stiles wants to kill him. He wants to _kill_ this guy and his smile, and his little inside jokes and little jabs and provocations that make it so hard to stay away. “It’s closed, but it still has ice cream,” he answers casually.

Theo is doing something to the lock, examining it closely as he messes with it, and Stiles thinks he’s finding a way to get it to hold the door closed anyway, with the way he’s forcing the bolt to still come off, trying it out a few times. How he knows how to do these things is something for Stiles to find out later.

He brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His breaking-into-places days were supposed to be over. “Are you seriously trying to convince the son of a cop to break into a store?” he asks, more rhetorical than anything else. Theo looks up, interested at that.

“Oh, your dad’s a cop?” he kind of asks, kind of states, as if storing the information for later and _fuck_ Stiles doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like Theo _knowing_ things about him just yet, okay? 

“Don’t- change subjects alright, we can’t just,” he points at the inside of the store, still from the outside as Theo holds the door open for him. He laughs, looks up at Stiles with an amused expression on his face. “C’mon,” he drags, “I’m pretty sure we’re out of Daddy’s jurisdiction, you’ll be fine.”

Stiles sighs, just a little annoyed at the condescending tone of voice. He doesn’t have a problem with breaking into somewhere - it’s not like he hasn’t done it before, he just usually has a better reason, in his head anyway, than _getting homemade_ fucking _ice cream_.

“Asshole,” the ends up sighing in defeat as he makes his way in after Theo.

Theo is sitting on the counter, by the tip jar and he’s not at all concentrated on his ice cream. Stiles, sprawled on one of the chairs across from him, is pretending very hard that he doesn’t notice the staring, focuses on his ice cream way too much and his uneasiness probably looks very obvious to Theo anyway but- well, dumb pride, he guesses.

“I think I get some of the things about you, now,” Theo breaks the silence. They’ve been eating quietly for a minute, after the initial jabs and teasing and provocations about how justifiable breaking into a small local ice cream shop is. And if putting money in the tip jar to pay for the lock _and_ ice creams was good enough to make up for it or not, while scanning the flavours of ice cream anyway stored in the freezer in the back.

“Oh, do you?” is Stiles’ automatic response, ready to get back into that easy (exciting) back and forth.

He smirks, tilts his chin in that way he always does while looking at Stiles, “Yep” he pops the ‘p’ and Stiles is suddenly very aware of how red his mouth looks. Stupid cold ice cream. 

A stupid idea crosses his mind, a wild flash of an image of himself stepping up to the middle of Theo’s legs by the counter, pulling him in by the hair and kiss all the sexual frustration away. He presses his lips together. Stupid idea. _Stupid stupid idea._ He could probably do it. Theo would totally let him- _Stop it, Stiles, stop thinking about it._

“Why you’re so on edge.” Theo continues, “So obsessed with control and some sort of order to things.” He stops and squints at Stiles, as if actively reading him and rethinking, “No, not order per se, more like logic,” he corrects. Stiles huffs, scoffs almost and looks away back into his ice cream. “Dad’s a cop. Hard upbringing, maybe?” Theo continues, and Stiles looks up at him again deadpan this time.

Is he serious right now?

“Makes sense, I guess,” Theo looks down at his ice cream, suddenly interested, poking it with his little spoon thing. “That’s also the reason why you’re here with me, anyway,” he says, brings the spoon full of ice cream into his mouth, makes a little show of it that Stiles is fixated on. This fucking _asshole_. “Little rebellions,” he explains, lifting his eyebrows at Stiles as if making a point. “I bet you’re the type of person who likes mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“Okay,” Stiles pipes up to interrupt him finally, straightening up on his chair, frowning, raising his hand up with his own spoon in it making him look not threatening at all, “Are you seriously psychoanalysing me over ice cream?” The nerve! 

Theo smiles wide at him, cheeky, a little chuckle comes out as he bites down on the spoon in his mouth.

“And no, my dad’s fine - he did a decent job considering he did most of it practically alone.”

Stiles tenses up as soon as he stops talking. Wants to take that back as it sinks in just the amount of information he just gave Theo. Shit, fuck, he didn’t need to know that. Stiles just opened way to a conversation that he really didn’t wanna have, not with a- what even _is_ Theo to him at this point? It doesn’t matter. What he is, as well as most of the rest of the world he doesn’t know, is someone he doesn’t want to talk about his mother with. 

He looks up at Theo, fingers flexing nervously. Stiles notices how the movement catches Theo’s eyes, and he’s a little on his toes, waiting for the inevitable question about his mom. It takes a few seconds of silence.

It never really comes.

“Alright, I believe you,” Theo says instead, hands up mocking surrender as he keeps a light tone of voice. 

Stiles stays silent but keeps looking at Theo. Pretends like the doesn’t know that the softness with which Theo is looking back at him is an apology of some kind - pretends it doesn’t feel like a nonverbal ’ _my bad_ ’ intended to not press the subject any further, but also not let it slide completely.

Then Stiles looks down at his ice cream instead, pretends that consideration doesn’t make something ache really nice in his chest.

  
  


He sort of forgets about telling Theo to stop a couple houses over, instead of right in front of his driveway - but to be fair, he’s not feeling half as anxious as he was earlier, so he figures he should be okay; he’s got the breaking and entering into an ice cream shop thing to bargain with if something happens, he guesses. It’s Theo’s fingerprints all over that door knob.

Stiles shakes his head a little to focus back from the ridiculous train of thought - _fucking_ breathe _, Stiles_.

The car stops and the air feels charged - Stiles looks over at Theo.

“Thank you for not being an asshole for once, and actually bringing me home early,” he says - he feels like Theo probably deserves that little pat on the back just this once. He smiles, one hand gripping the wheel, as he breaks the car and sorta settles down on the seat, getting comfortable. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

“I promised, didn’t I?” he says, raising his eyebrows back at Stiles. Theo’s got this look on his face, like he’s waiting for something.

Stiles can totally figure out what that something is, just with the way Theo is all laid back, casual, eyes Stiles up and down. Stiles fidgets just a little, as once again dumb images fill his brain, of reaching over, touching him. It’s kinda intoxicating on its own to know that _he can_ . That Theo is totally sending him all the signs that _he should._

But Stiles can be a little shit too, albeit a masochist one.

“Okay, so, thank you for the ride, it was great, loved the ice cream,” he says, starting to reach for the door, with every intention of leaving. 

“Stiles,” Theo calls him, his face changing, a bit pressed, a bit incredulous, and Stiles turns around to face him, door half open already. Oh that half indignant look on his face is _everything._ Stiles smiles back at him, tries to make it look so sweet it's obviously fake.

“What?” he says, innocently. 

Theo just stares at him, eyes all over his face, can probably detect exactly what Stiles is doing and the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk as he nods, slightly annoyed, slightly amused, “Alright, okay,” he says nodding in that _I see how it is_ way. 

“What?” Stiles insists, the grin on his face totally betraying the innocence façade he’s trying to hold up. Theo bites his lip, grips the wheel of the truck again, straightens himself up on his seat and looks in front of him as if trying to align his thoughts. 

“God, when I get my hands on you…,” he mumbles, lowly under his breath and Stiles isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not. It sets a fire in his gut and he wants to give in to Theo just about as much as he wants to rile him up furthermore until he snaps, _takes_ what he wants- _fuck,_ okay.

He makes to leave Theo’s truck, “Bye, Theo,” he manages to say, still enough of that fake innocent tone despite the sudden heat in his cheeks making him falter a little.

“Bye _kitten,_ ” Theo answers back, and Stiles throws him a dirty look as he closes the door, but refuses to answer - Theo laughs at it.

It is the hardest thing, walking up his driveway and resisting the urge to turn back around when he can hear the rumbling of the truck, telling him Theo is right there watching him walk away. 

  
  


Putting the remote control down after he pauses the game they’re playing, Scott sighs out an exasperated, sort of feed up ‘’okay,” that Stiles frowns at because he can’t for the life of him immediately figure out what prompts it. His frown deepens when Scott turns to face him, grabbing Stiles’ remote control and putting it down as well. _Okay…_

“Can you tell me what’s going on with you?” Scott says, and Stiles almost panics - forces himself to keep as calm as he can.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. _Keep eye contact, Stiles, control your face - a frown is allowed though; control your hands, do not look at your phone, keep breathing steady._

Scott sighs again, scrunches up his face, rubs a hand all over it as he thinks of the best way to express himself, “I- I don’t mean like-” he stops, lips tighten in a tense line and he looks all over as if he’s physically looking for the right words to say “I don’t want to _pry_ anything out of you that you don’t want to tell me, but, like, if you’re having problems and I can help, then I want you to want to tell me.”

Stiles stares at him for a while, trying to figure out what the best course of action is here. He doesn’t mean to hide anything from Scott, but, like, at the same time he doesn’t know if _Theo_ is something Scott can help him with to begin with. And god, Scott would most likely not approve at all.

 _Shit_ , he has got to be very obvious if Scott is picking up on it this well. Or maybe he’s just not giving his best friend enough credit. Either way, if Scott is picking up on it during one of their many blissful sunday afternoons of not doing shit but playing video games in Stiles’ room, then maybe it’s enough of a _thing_ that warrants telling Scott. Or at least part of it. 

“It’s not a _supernatural_ sort of problem,” Stiles starts by saying. And he can literally see Scott’s shoulders relaxing back. Yeah, he likes this peace as well. He likes their afternoons of not being productive at all, just being kids playing video games. They earned a lifetime of those.

“Then what kind of problem is it?” Scott asks, moving back on the bed until his back is against the wall, settling in, getting comfortable.

It’s a wicked, light eyed, devilish smirking, incredibly sculptural bodied, fucking _hot_ , problem, is what it is. But Stiles can’t really just drop that on Scott like that.

“I -,” _what?_ Stiles stops himself. Like someone? Fuck, he’s not admitting that out loud to a single soul, so he turns his brain trying to find a better wording. “I have a _thing_ with… this guy.”

Scott perks up at it - he’s so much like a puppy sometimes, Stiles finds himself wondering if he was always like this and he never noticed or if it came along with the wolf superpowers. “Shit, it’s Brett!” he shoots.

Stiles recoils a bit, frowns at him and his mouth hangs open for a second. What the hell! Why would it be Brett? And Is everyone seriously aware of this whole Brett-Having-Sight-Problems-And-Crushing-On-Stiles thing, except for Stiles? 

“Uh, no,” he says, with a hint of annoyance to it. “Why would- why are you saying that?”

Scott gives him a face, throws him a _‘’are you kidding me’’_ look that annoys Stiles further, “Dude, like, he’s got a massive crush on you, I thought you knew.”

Stiles fumbles with his remote and the wire of it, looking down at his busy hands instead of facing Scott, “I didn’t. But I do now,” this conversation has nothing to do with the original thought, “But that doesn’t matter, he’s not- it’s not Brett.”

“Who, then?”

It takes a few tries, and very well picked words to put Scott up to date. Unlike Lydia, his poker face is terrible and Stiles is able to almost read his thoughts across his forehead as they form. 

“You like him,” is the first thing Scott tells him, and the conclusion he seems to have reached. It makes Stiles uncomfortable, a little bit too exposed for his liking, even if it's Scott and he says it in the most lighthearted, non judging way possible.

Stiles fumbles a little bit more, moving around on the bed, discarding the remote, finally, reaching for a pillow instead and bringing it up against his chest to hold - almost like a barrier.

“I don’t know.” He says. And it’s a lie. Scott doesn’t need to be able to hear heartbeats to figure that out.

“I think you do.” Scott says, softly, in that way of his. “I’m just wondering why you don’t just… let it happen.”

Stiles is worrying at the corner of the pillow, eyes down on it and teeth biting on his lower lip, sort of avoiding to answer. Sarcasm is on the tip of his tongue, _“uh, hi Scott, it’s me Stiles, did you forget who you were talking to, what kind of question is that?”_ , but he bites it back.

In his head it makes sense - he can try all he wants to to put it into words, but it would never feel like he’s explaining himself right enough. It’s a self defensive mode, it’s wanting to stay in his comfort zone, wary of other people and their intentions, cautious to not be caught off guard, keeping people out to keep from giving them too much power, terrified of getting feelings to blindside him and drop his defences resulting in the inevitable thing that is the rawest, most vulnerable part of Stiles getting destroyed from the core.

He never learnt how to trust any new people like that.

Stiles sighs, looks up, shoulders slacking off - Scott isn’t _new people_ though, and there’s still a certain amount of this that maybe he can talk about, if nothing else, then because Scott is so much better at these things that he is, so hearing him out might be...good.

“I don’t know if I can trust him,” Stiles whispers.

Scott leans forward, tries to catch Stiles’ eyes, “Yeah, I get that,” he says, and Stiles looks over, waiting for the inevitable continuation to that sentence. “But at the beginning of these things, no one really knows if they can trust the other person; it’s a leap of faith, I think.”

Stiles can’t quite stop the scoff that leaves his mouth, the small roll of his eyes, but Scott keeps going, “No, I know, it’s corny and whatever.” He smiles, before carrying on, “it’s still pretty much what it is, though. And if it doesn’t work out then, yeah it’ll be a bitch, but….. it happened? Maybe you had something nice for a little while, something you liked. It was good and above all you tried.”

It’s Scott’s turn to not return Stiles’ gaze, his thoughts probably getting away from him. Stiles watches him all the more attentively for it.

“You gave it a shot, you know?” He continues, in a soft voice, and Stiles feels a bit of an inexplicable lump forming in his throat. “The _what if_ s are so much worse.” There’s a layer of melancholy to Scott’s voice that makes something uncomfortable climb and set on his chest. “You’re never really coming out of it losing if you come out of it knowing you _tried,_ even if for whatever reason it didn’t end up working out. You take it as something to learn from, and next time you’ll be better for it.” Finally, Scott looks up, a soft warm look and half a smile on his face as he pats Stiles’ leg gently, and Stiles can read the whole rollercoaster of emotions that was Allison in Scott’s life in that look alone. “No regrets,” Scott finishes.

  
  


Overthinking always was Stiles’ thing and he knows it very well. But sometimes, his brain also goes the complete opposite way, when his focus zeroes in on something and he acts too impulsively for his own good. 

It’s how he ends up staring at his phone while sitting in his desk, instead of doing the actual homework he wanted to concentrate on. The screen is still on and the sent message to Theo is bright and obnoxious in the dim light of the rest of his room.

He watches it from afar, as if the distance could somehow make it better, mean an actual safe distance, a lack of interest that he’s trying to prove to an empty room. _Fuck_ . Stiles drops his pencil on top of his notebook and brings his hands to rub at his eyes. His goddamn brain is _exhausting._

Sighing, he looks at his phone again and notices the new bubble just beneath the text he sent, in a different colour, before the screen blacks out and he groans out loud as soon as he realises how fast and eagerly he reaches for it, takes a moment to close his eyes and call himself a _stupid idiot_ out loud before checking his phone.

Just under Stiles’ _‘I actually liked the ice cream.’_ is Theo’s answer.

_‘Bet you liked the misdemeanor part of getting it more’_

And Stiles purses his lips, physically fighting the grin that threatens to spread across his lips. Shit, he’s impossible. ‘ _you just can’t help being a little shit, can you?’_ Stiles writes and sends before thinking too much about it. He knows how much he’s repeating himself at this point.

 _‘What are you doing right now?’_ homework. Trying to, anyway. Somehow that doesn’t feel like the right thing to answer, though. Stiles can’t help but want to keep teasing Theo as well. ‘ _Why, are you planning on abducting me again to commit any other minor offences?’_

After sending the message, he takes a second, re-reads it a couple of times thinks that maybe that was a way too long answer. Right? Theo asked a straight up question, that was- that answer had nothing to do with anything, what the fuck is he even _doing_ , what is he saying, why can’t he have a regular fucking conversation with this guy. Does he even sound like himself?

What does _sounding like himself_ even… sounds like?

Stiles stands up, leaves his phone locked on top of his notebook, paces to the middle of his room, brings his hand to his forehead, looks around, mumbles to himself, “stop, stop, stop, stop,” like a mantra.

His phone vibrates and this time Stiles approaches it slowly. “ _I can keep it inside the law this time around, if you’d like.”_

Stiles was in the middle of answering with _“how considerate of you-”_ when another bubble of text on Theo’s side of the conversation followed. Absent mindlessly, he notes the double texting but doesn’t focus on it too much. “ _Even though I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t find it quite as exciting.”_

Stiles takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes for a second and steps backwards towards his bed, sitting down on it, backspacing what he’d written and starting again.

“ _Wow, it’s incredible how you really cannot help yourself._ ” 

“ _I think you’d be surprised, actually.”_

_“With what exactly?”_

_“With how good I can be.”_

Stiles blushes. He can actually feel his own face heat up and it’s fucking ridiculous, because Theo is not even being, like, suggestive or something this time around. Or, like. He’s said worse things before, but for some reason that gets a damn physical reaction out of Stiles. Theo being _good_ . Being good for Stiles. Controlling his impulses because Stiles wants him to. Neglecting what he wants, and what he wants to do, unless Stiles gives him _permission_ . Theo being so fucking _good_ for Stiles. Even though he has the physical strength and independence and power to do whatever the fuck he wants. _Choosing_ to be obedient-

“Oh my god,” Stiles says out loud, breaking his train of thought. God, he’s so fucked, he is _so so_ fucked.

His phone vibrates again.

“ _For example, I’m being so good and lawful right now, waiting outside for your invite instead of just climbing your window. Wouldn’t wanna trespass on a cop’s home.”_

To be completely honest, it takes Stiles a couple good seconds to fully understand the text he just got. And then he feels his stomach fall to his feet, get picked up so fast it crashes everything inside his chest, sends his heart to his throat and into a frenzy. It can’t be.

“Oh my fucking god,” he repeats and then rushes to the window, almost rips the window blinds as he pulls on the string to open them, not entirely believing that Theo could actually be outside, until he sees him. 

Right there, phone in hand, the other one casually inside his hoodie’s pocket, sitting on the hood on his truck parked just by the curb. He looks up, not a care in the world, waves at Stiles’ with his phone and a close mouthed smirk gracing his lips. 

Stiles fumbles to open the window, “Theo, what the fuck?!” he whisper-screams, looks around to the neighboring houses. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

And Theo says “hi.”

What- does he-

Stiles can’t help but just stare at him. It’s like he lives in another world, seriously. If his neighbors see him, it’s gonna be so much fun explaining to his dad what the hell was some boy doing at Stiles’s window right when the sheriff was on night shift, that’s just amazing timing really.

“You can’t just be there!” Stiles says, upper body out of the window at this point, points at Theo’s general direction waving a little like a crazy person, furrowed brow and exasperated look on his face that only gets worse just as Theo jumps off his truck to run towards the house and starts climbing up to Stiles’ window like it’s nothing, reaches a open mouthed Stiles, hooks his hand up and inside on the top of the window to keep his balance.

“Was that my invite in?” 

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat and he can’t help but just stare at Theo, a bit dumbfounded, a bit breathless, brain not making much sense of anything really with how close Theo suddenly is, with how his scent invades Stiles’ senses.

But his mouth runs without his permission like it always does, “I thought you were a wolf, not a vampire.” And it comes out a little throaty, just a little intimidated by the closeness. He’s teasing Theo, can’t help himself. Theo flashes his yellow eyes at him before a grin spreads on his lips and he looks down at Stiles’, tilting his head to the side a little. 

Whatever part of Stiles’ mind that wasn’t complete mush by now gets him to snap out of it enough that he pulls Theo inside, stops whatever Theo was planning to do and looks around once again, at Theo’s truck - it’s out of his driveway enough that it could pass as someone visiting someone else, he guesses. So he quickly shuts the window, fumbles with the blinds to get them down enough and then turns around to finally face Theo and the fact that _he’s in Stiles’ room._

Stiles brings a hand to his forehead and his heart is still hammering in his chest - _fuck_ , his room is a mess, his papers are everywhere, he didn’t even get the change to put his damn homework away, let alone fix his bed or hide his murderboard - his _goddamn murderboard_ , oh shit. And the worst part is, Theo can hear and smell all of his fucking emotions right off of him. 

However, when Stiles focuses back on him, Theo isn’t looking around, he’s looking at Stiles only. 

“So,” Theo starts, “ what were you doing?”

There’s something incredibly surreal about having Theo in his room. Stiles is staring at him, he knows, but he can’t help it; there’s so many questions going through his head at the same time, he can’t bring himself to move, let alone look away from Theo. As if he’s suddenly going to move if Stiles’ eyes aren’t pinning him in place or disappear and Stiles will wake up and finally admit to himself that, yeah, he’s so damn fucked he’s dreaming about this guy in his space.

He’s in _Stiles’ space_ is the thing, and Stiles gets all kinds of nervous and itchy about it when its unplanned like this and he wasn’t expecting it but- 

Stiles doesn’t want Theo to go, either. It’s very confusing, very infuriating, very maddening. He wants to push Theo away and out of the window and hold him in place right where he is, at the same time.

“How did you know I was home? And how did you get here so fast?” Stiles starts, moving towards his desk to gather his papers and the book he was reading for class, trying to make it look a little less all over the place. Trying to do something with himself instead of just fidgeting in place like a nervous wreck.

Theo rolls his eyes at Stiles, his shoulders do this sag thing but he smiles, “will you stop answering questions with questions?”

Stiles frowns at him a little indignantly, “Uhm, I feel like they are very valid _pressing_ questions, actually, certainly more pertinent than ‘’ _what are you doing right now’_ ’” he says, the sarcasm bleeding into his voice before he can help it.

Theo follows him with his eyes while Stiles gathers his stuff in his arms and turns to stare back at Theo, eyebrow raised, demanding an answer.

“I was close by when I got your message,” Theo says, casually, turning from Stiles to look at Stiles’ desk instead, moving in that lazy, so full of himself way of his. God, Stiles hates everything about it.

He scoffs at Theo’s answer, “wow, my timing is incredible,” he deadpans, sarcastic as ever. Theo throws a look his way, smirk in place.

“It really is,” he says, simply.

Stiles drops his stuff on his bed with a loud huff, full of nerves and fed up, “Oh, come on!” he exclaims, hands coming to rest on his waist, looking at Theo, more annoyed than usual. He wants to ask him “ _what exactly are you doing here?”_ but he doesn’t want to say those words, afraid of the answer a little bit.

“What?” Theo’s lips contort a little to keep from letting a smile break out fully.

“Is that really your answer? “I was in the neighborhood _”_ ?” Stiles mocks, full with air quotes and all. He has got to be messing around with Stiles at this point, and it doesn’t help at all that this whole situation is making Stiles vibrate with nervousness, at the unexpectedness of it, suspecting, but not knowing what Theo wants from being here. (And how fucking _exciting_ it is, no matter how nervous he is.)

Theo shrugs, “Okay, you want some details? I dropped your boy Liam off at his place and I got your message and detoured.”

Stiles only gets more confused with that. What the hell was Liam doing with Theo in the first place? Why did he need a ride home? What? None of it is making sense in Stiles’ head. And he squints his eyes at Theo, portraying the suspicion that, honestly, he’s not even trying to hide at this point.

What is he doing here? His head keeps repeating at him. What does he want _exactly_?

“He came over to watch our practice - he still has friends in our team, you know? He does that sometimes.” Theo carries on, probably reading the confusion and distrust all over Stiles’ face. “So, at the end he needed a ride home, and I offered.” 

But. Why? How could he know that Stiles was going to- 

It suddenly clicks in Stiles’ head. 

“You were always gonna come by, even if I didn’t text you first, weren’t you?” he squints further.

Theo smiles. “Hence my agreeing that your timing is, indeed, impeccable.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Stiles brings a hand to his face. These fucking interactions with Theo are going to make him go insane, honestly. Of course he had it planned already to come by. What the hell was Stiles’ even thinking? Yeah, he was a wolf, and he was fast, but even if he had run his way here from the moment Stiles texted him, it still would have taken more time than it took him. And he had his truck right outside.

Stiles sits down on his bed. He feels like he should be mad about it. There’s something about it that doesn’t sit quite right with him, - with his anxiety _._

He knows deep down that his brain is just doing that postponing thing it does, too, finding reasons to not deal with what he doesn’t want to deal with straight away. Like, _again_ , the fact Theo is right in the middle of his room.

“Satisfied, kitten?” Theo teases, turning to face Stiles as he leans back against Stiles’ desk, hands on each side, gripping the edge of it. Stiles stares at him, and his brain is turning and turning in his head, trying to make sense of the whole situation, a million different scenarios going through his head. Hundreds of possible _very detailed_ reasons why Theo wanted to come here. He doesn’t dwell for long on each, feeling his focus slip away as his eyes drag down Theo’s body and - _fuck, Stiles, get it together_.

“Now will you tell me what you were up to?” Theo insists, crosses his arms on his chest and lifts his chin, looking at Stiles through hooded eyes and Stiles’ attention is redirected to the bulge of his arms under the blue sweatshirt and black unripped hoodie. 

Stiles opens his mouth to answer and nothing comes out for a second. He closes it, blinks at Theo. _Focus Stiles, snap out of it._

“Studying. I was studying, and that’s what I am going to continue doing, so,” he says, matter-of-factly, “if you don’t mind…” he leaves it in the air, ignores the protest in the form of a lump in his throat, because that’s really not what he wanted to say to Theo. He doesn’t want him to go. But he’s not sure about letting him stay, either.

There’s absolutely nothing in his head to stop his brain from acknowledging that he probably already knows the answer to the questions he wants, but won’t dare ask Theo. And he doesn’t like those answers that much; he wants Theo to want to be here - with him - without second intentions, for a change, and he feels like a foolish dumbass just thinking it.

“No, I don’t mind at all, carry on,” Theo says, lightly, and then turns around to Stiles’ desk, picks up whatever notebook got left behind from the ones Stiles bothered picking up, and goes through it, suddenly looking very interested in statistics.

Stiles stares at him, mouth slightly ajar. He bites his lip, keeping from saying anything. He can see what Theo’s doing, he knows exactly what this is. _What a little shit_. 

But Stiles will be damned if he lets Theo win this little standoff thing they got going on. If he thinks he can just come into his room and Stiles will immediately drop everything he’s doing and just do whatever he wants instead, he’s got something else coming because Stiles is nothing if not a stubborn son of a bitch himself and a master at doing things _out of spite._

He sighs deeply and proceeds to ignore Theo, eyes down on the notes he was reading for English not really able to make sense of a single fucking word, as he sees, through the corner of his eye as Theo starts moving slowly, eyes fixed on Stiles’ things all over his room.

Stiles can’t quite concentrate, his leg bouncing a little as Theo moves from his homework on the desk to his shelves, his fingers go up and over the spine of his books there, stop for a second on the one about japanese mythologies that’s still up there and Stiles feels himself stop breathing for a second, freezes in place. 

“That’s some heavy reading,” Theo comments, lowly, but doesn’t turn around. Stiles wants to curse, knows that Theo probably picked up on Stiles’ breathing and heartbeat and that’s why he stopped there, not because he _knows_ because… how could he? Right? But he’s also friends with Brett so, maybe he does know. 

But what does Stiles even know about what Theo knows or not, it’s not like he _knows_ him that well. It brings back what Brett said to him, and Stiles wonders if that’s the reason why he so stubbornly doesn’t want Theo to _try_ anything.

Theo is moving on from the book, and Stiles forces himself to look back to his notes, adjusts himself on the bed so he’s sitting cross legged with his back against his pillow on the headrest of the bed. 

He hears Theo scoff, let out a chuckle as he turns around with something on his hand, an amused look on his face that has Stiles’ head up way faster than he intended to. Damn it, he’s got Stiles on the edge of his seat and it’s so fucking _annoying_.

“Where did you find an Ewok keychain?” he laughs, as he holds the plushie on a keychain by the hoop, laughing at the brown teddy bear looking figure at the end of if. 

Stiles gets caught off guard, stupid as it is. “You watched Star Wars?” he blurts, dumbly. Theo frowns, with the smile still on his face, shrugs with one of his shoulders like that’s a dumb question and replies with a “yeah?” that implies a _who hasn’t?_ to which Stiles kind of wants to answer with “ _you’d be surprised_ ”, but he stops himself.

It’s so dumb the way Stiles feels a weird contentment with the fact that Theo also knows and likes Star Wars. He tells himself it's just the satisfaction of finally finding someone else his age in this town that knows the movies and would understand his dumb references. And that’s all that it is. Not like- something they have in common or anything just… 

“Now, this is impressive,” Theo comments, Stiles’ attention snaps back to him and he sees him in front of the glass board that got pushed into the corner of his room where the rest of his _murder board_ is, with all its pictures, drawings, schemes, quotes, news articles, and red yard. _Shit_.

“I-,” he starts. But what is he going to say in his defense? He’s an obsessed, paranoid, distrusting, stubborn idiot? Yeah… It’s looking pretty obvious at this point and that’s not a very neat defense to begin with.

“It helps me think,” Stiles says instead. Fuck, Theo must be judging him so hard, must be thinking of the smoothest way to fuck out of here at this point and never look back Stiles’ way, because, who the fuck wants to be dealing with all of… that. 

A _fuck_ isn’t worth all this trouble.

“No, I get it,” Theo says instead, turns around to look at Stiles, “it’s easier to connect the dots if they’re literally in front of your eyes. It’s smart.”

Stiles nods as an answer, feeling this odd warmth spread across his chest, not taking his eyes off Theo, incapable of saying anything minimally coherent, really. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Theo is in fact a wolf who’s aware of all the weird, messed up shit that happens in the supernatural world, and not just some fuckboy that keeps messing with Stiles’ head. He’s also that, but not only. And the fact that he can understand how this really _over-the-board-obsessive_ way of dealing with things works for his brain is… new. The fact that he understands, instead of looking at him funny is new. And maybe Stiles likes it a lot more than he should.

And, fuck, here this guy is again catching him off guard and making him think weird things that sound dumb and stupid and-

Stiles brings his notes up to his face again, huffing as he forces himself to look at them instead of thinking all that he’s thinking and feeling. His brain keeps going back and forth with what it wants. But Theo is not helping with the way he keeps catching his attention, this time when he moves to grab a frame of a picture of Stiles with Scott when they were kids.

“You and McCall go way back, uh?” he comments and, okay, he needs to stop.

“Alright,” Stiles says, papers hitting his legs when he puts them down a little more aggressively than planned, “will you stop going over my stuff, now?” he says, pointedly.

Theo puts the frame down without taking his eyes from Stiles and smirks as he crosses his arms against his chest again. “Will you stop pretending you want to study?”

Stiles’ mouth falls open in outrage “I do want to study, and you’re just distracting me.”

“Am I?” Theo fires back, he gives Stiles this once over that has him heating up on the spot. He hates that Theo can just do that. “Okay,” he concedes, “are we going to pretend we don’t want the same thing, here?” 

And there it fucking is, and it _pisses Stiles off_. 

This smug arrogant conceited asshole, really thinks he’s just going to show up here out of nowhere, go through Stiles’ shit, mess with his head while he’s at it, and just _assume_ that Stiles is just going to fucking give him what he wants like some sort of booty call, just because he’s asking him or whatever, just like that? Just like that.

“You don’t know what I want.” 

The conversation he had with Brett at the lacrosse game comes back to mind and Stiles realises how he’s right, and how he doesn’t know Theo all that well. And all at once, it hits him like a ton of bricks how he’s just lowering his guard out of nowhere, letting Theo go through his stuff and why? Because Stiles’ into him? Because Theo gives him attention that he so wants but will _never_ admit out loud? 

The way Brett sounded like he knew something about Theo that he doesn’t know is brought back to the very front of his mind and his brain itches with it.

“Why don’t you tell me, then?” Theo asks.

“I want-” Stiles shoot before he’s got the whole thought properly formed in his head. He takes a deep breath. “I want to _talk_.” It’s the most honest thing he can tell him. He wants to talk, wants to figure Theo out, wants to know what he wants and if he can trust him and follow Lydia’s and Scott’s advice.

Once again, Theo just stares at him, seems a little taken back by it with the way he turns his head slightly to the side in that wolf way they all do, consciously or not, like he’s reading Stiles and what he means by it. Then he uncrosses his arms, steps closer to Stiles in the bed, licks his lips and says “okay,” softly. “Let’s talk, then.”

He sits down across from Stiles on the bed, one leg bent, the other still on the ground, “what do you want to talk about?”

“About you.”

Theo settles, nods slowly, “okay,” he answers.

Stiles stares at him, feeling the energy shift quite drastically, but not in a bad way. The nervous on-edge feeling dissipates a little, it feels like they’re ready to stop dancing around each other, and Stiles feels the most conflicting mixture of raw excitement and blissful calm when he looks at Theo’s face and realizes he’s willing to answer whatever Stiles wants to ask. That never happens. It’s always an investigation, always hunches and connecting dots, never straight answers, and he feels a little overwhelmed with it.

It’s funny how all of a sudden, he doesn’t know what to ask first.

“I don’t know where to start,” Stiles admits in a quiet voice, closes his notebook and puts it to the side, along with the rest of his papers, keeps staring at them, fumbling with the corner of a page instead of facing Theo.

The chuckle that leaves Theo’s mouth has his attention back on him, and although the look on Theo’s face is soft, he still teases Stiles, “should I tell you my birthday? Favourite colour? Do I prefer coffee or tea? Summer or winter? Favourite movie, song, and book!”

Stiles is rolling his eyes, huffs before interrupting Theo, “okay, smartass,” he retorts. But it actually gives him an idea on where to start.

“Were you born a wolf?” Stiles asks, holding Theo’s gaze. Theo keeps that eyelock for a moment longer, biting his lower lip as if he’s thinking on his answer - even though it should be a fairly simple answer; yes or no.

Theo bites his lip as he looks at Stiles, takes a moment and moves to take off his hoodie and sits back, leaving him in just the blue sweatshirt as he shuffles back, until his back hits against the wall that Stiles’ bed is pushed up against. He leaves the hoodie just by his side, on the right, and he turns his head to the left to face Stiles again.

“I was turned,” Theo answers at last, breaks eye contact and looks straight ahead instead.

Just like Scott, Stiles thinks. Then, he thinks of the next question, “does your family know?”

Stiles is watching the profile of Theo’s face attentively, and he can’t quite read anything as Theo keeps staring ahead, not really answering the question. Stiles wonders if the stepped into something just then.

“No, uhm,” Theo starts, and Stiles thinks for a fleeting second that that’s the first time he hears the other boy hesitate before answering. Stiles can’t help but stare at him a little bit in awe, waiting for him to continue. Seeing him stripped of the arrogance and cocky smirk like this is new. Theo turns his head to look at Stiles with an expression that Stiles can’t figure out, and he keeps his eyes low on the bed as he says “they died before that.”

 _Shit_ . Okay, _shit_ , he definitely stepped into something here, no doubt. It automatically makes him think of Derek and the Hale family and if it was anything like that.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles mumbles quietly, watching Theo. His voice comes out a little croaky, and he really can’t think of anything else to say. Without thinking he’s moving a bit on the bed so his legs are a bit straighter, bent knees as he hesitates about touching Theo’s thigh. He doesn’t. But he kind of wants to, for some reason.

“It was a long time ago,” Theo lifts his head to properly look at Stiles then, the look on his face is calm and fairly neutral, before he gives Stiles a little smile like _don’t worry, it’s fine_.

Stiles wonders if it was all at the same time. If he had to deal with a lost family and new overwhelming powers at the same time. Get used to two very different realities at once. Fuck, and was he alone? And… did one thing happen because of the other? He squints a little, pensative.

Stiles thinks of what happened to Malia and what she did, this time around.

“Was their death related to your turning?” Stiles finds himself asking. He winces a little when he notices the words actually left his mouth. He’s kind of not expecting Theo to answer it. To be fair, he’s watching him carefully, both to read him and figure out if he’s telling the truth, and also just waiting for the moment Theo definitely decides all of this isn’t worth whatever he wants from Stiles, stands up and walks away.

Stiles wouldn’t blame him for it either. He almost wants to take the question back - but his curiosity and _need to know_ weighs in more and he stays quiet; doesn’t push Theo to answer, hopes he does anyway. 

In the back of his head, the paranoid part of his brain keeps poking at his conscience, telling him that there’s in fact something more there. Even if it doesn’t feel like he’s _lying_. There’s a lot of ways of not telling the truth.

The rational part of his mind is telling him to shut up and listen.

Theo just takes a second like he’s thinking about his answer, doesn’t look like he wants to go anywhere, if the way he shuffles a little to the side, closer to Stiles is anything to go by. He slowly reaches for Stiles’ knee, like he’s giving Stiles time to shy away, brings his legs so they’re over Theo’s thighs and keeps his hand there. Heavy and warm over Stiles’ checkered pajama pants. Stiles pretends like he’s not hyper aware of it.

“Yeah,” Theo answers finally, staring at his lap and Stiles’ legs over it. “As in the people who turned me where the same ones that caused their deaths.”

Stiles’ mouth falls slightly open as he takes the information in, feels something impossibly cold fall to the pit of his stomach and squeeze at his heart. This time, it really feels like he intruded on something he shouldn’t have. But at the same time, as he looks all over at Theo’s expression trying to read it, he finds it hard and wonders why. 

Once again, his brain is tearing itself apart about it. Should he believe that? Is Theo telling the truth or just some sob story to get Stiles to trust him? 

He says, “fuck,” and doesn’t know to what exactly he’s reacting, if his thoughts, or Theo’s story. If it’s true, he never _ever_ would have guessed it. Not with the way Theo carries himself. Not based on every single interaction he’s had with him so far. That’s why his brain keeps poking at him, he thinks.

There must be something in the way that Stiles is looking at Theo, even if Stiles doesn’t notice it, but the other boy sighs, gives Stiles’ leg a squeeze and says, “Look,” Stiles’ brow furrows a little, “I’m not trying to make it seem like it was just this tragedy that happened to me.” Theo looks up and looks Stiles’ in the eyes, “I made some shitty decisions, I got myself into some deep shit that in the end caused all of it.” Stiles is listening attentively. He doesn’t know how to feel about what Theo is telling him, but somehow believes that he’s telling the truth. He wants to know _exactly_ what Theo is talking about, but can’t bring himself to push the subject. 

He can’t bring himself to make his mind about it either. Because if there’s one thing Stiles also knows about is shitty decisions and getting himself into deep shit.

Theo looks all over Stiles’ face and lets the silence drag for a moment before breaking it, “I’m not... completely innocent.” he mumbles.

 _Me neither._

“But most of the things I did, I did to survive.” Theo finishes.

They stay in silence for a while longer after that. The admission makes Stiles’ thoughts settle a little. He still feels like asking more questions and figuring out details, but for the time being his instinct is telling him to trust that Theo’s telling the truth. It’s not like he can’t relate to it. 

(It’s not like it wouldn’t be hypocritical of Stiles to judge people when he’s got the repertoire he does.) 

He randomly wonders if this is what Brett knows about Theo. And then he remembers something else he wants to ask Theo.

“How exactly do you know Brett? And don’t tell me school or lacrosse,” Stiles asks, voice much quieter. “He sounds like he knows you better than just a classmate.”

Theo’s lips twitch with a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He brings his hand up to rub his forehead, “That’s complicated.”

Stiles frowns, scoffs, thinks of everything Theo just told him and how could it be more complicated than that, “How complicated can it be?” he muses, then as an afterthought adds ”did you use to date or something?” It leaves his mouth before he can process it completely and then he actually thinks about it. Shit, did they?

“No, it’s not _that_ kind of complicated,” Theo answers, a curl on the corner of his lip that drops slowly. “There’s just another whole crazy story behind it” Theo sighs.

Stiles wants to tell him not to worry, that nothing could be as over the top crazy and unbelievable as his life in the last five years, there wasn’t much he couldn’t handle at this point. “Just tell me,” he urges, although there’s no heat in his voice.

Theo’s hands both settle on Stiles’ right knee, move a little down his leg and up again, absentmindedly.

“Brett and I are in the same pack.”

The wheels in Stiles’ brain start turning furiously. Satomi’s pack? Theo’s in Satomi’s pack? “Since when?” Stiles frowns.

“About,” Theo looks up, frowns as he thinks “almost two years ago now, Satomi got me out of -” he pauses again, pulls a face, “a bad place, let’s call it. I helped her pack, she-”

“She took you in,” Stiles interrupts, standing up a little straighter, the notebook that was on his left side slides off the bed with the movement. Stiles gives it a glance but otherwise ignores it, focused back on Theo. “Like she did with Brett and Lori,” Stiles continues thinking out loud.

Theo chuckles, it’s a dry one and Stiles frowns at it, “It’s really nothing like Brett and Lori, Stiles,” he says, smiling. 

“Then it’s like what?”

Theo scoffs, shakes his head, “It’s like a complicated story that is way too heavy and detailed for this time of the night anyway,” Theo says, rises his chin at Stiles, looks at him through hooded eyes like that way he does, smirk in place although softer than usual, a daring look on his face. 

Stiles takes that as the end of the sharing session from Theo’s end. He sighs defeated, purses his lips, “fine,” he concedes.

Theo gives Stiles this amused close mouthed smile before he takes a deep breath, kicks his shoes off and Stiles watches it with a raised eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He’s totally getting comfortable.

“So, how do _you_ know Brett?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows dramatically, “well, that’s a complicated story that is way too heavy and detailed for this time of the night anyway,” he mocks, can’t help himself. Theo is grinning at him halfway through his words and hooks his hand under Stiles’ knee, pulls at it to make Stiles slide down the bed with surprised gasp, and leans towards him, brings the hand that was on Stiles’ knee to grip his chin.

“Don’t be a little shit,” Theo says and bites at Stiles’ jaw.

The most embarrassing, indignated noise falls out of Stiles’ mouth at it, and he pushes Theo away. The other boy goes with a chuckle, but doesn’t return to his sitting position, lying down next to Stiles instead.

He feels his whole body light up with how suddenly close Theo is.

“Tell me, how do you know Talbot,” Theo insists, arm coming up behind his head to rest on it. He’s looking at Stiles, Stiles can totally feel it, but is incapable of returning the look, quite overwhelmed, once again, with the notion that Theo is just…. _there_ . In his bed, next to him, looking so comfortable. _Fuck._

He decides answering Theo’s question is the best distraction.

“His name was on a supernatural Deadpool, along with a bunch of your fellow pack mates,” Stiles says, giving Theo a quick glance. Theo hums, stares at the ceiling and squints thinking about it a little, “I heard about that.”

“It was the same year Liam transferred,” Stiles says, “so, there’s also that. I had to de escalate things between them a couple times.”

Theo makes a sound in the back of his throat that turns into a laugh and Stiles turns to look at him “what?” he demands.

Theo turns to look at him, bites the smile out of his lip before continuing, “I also heard about that. Brett got very into the details of that first de escalation when I asked him where he knew you from, that first time I saw you,” Theo props himself up, brings his arm bent at the elbow to support his head as he looks down at Stiles, cocky smirk back in place, “you know after he told me you were out of my league.”

Right. That. Stiles can’t quite hold Theo’s gaze, refuses to acknowledge the heat on his cheeks. That will forever not make sense in Stiles’ head. “I honestly don’t understand,” Stiles mumbles as he shakes his head, brows raised.

Theo takes a deep breath, smiles, lets his head fall back for a second in a lazy moment before coming back to look at Stiles through lidded eyes, “you’re clearly blind if you don’t, kitten,” and Stiles’ head whips towards Theo, lips pursed in a pressed look, ready to tell him off for the kitten thing, before he realizes how close their faces are.

The way Theo is looking down at him makes something impossibly hot spread down his stomach, down and down and down, and Stiles’ legs press together a little before he notices he’s doing it, can’t help himself. It’s this languid look, complete with a half smile as Theo keeps staring at his lips but won’t move to press them together. Teasing Stiles.

Shit.

He can feel himself breath a little harder, feels his pressure on his chest, the same way it feels when excitement turns into nerves, turns into electricity in your veins. Stiles bites his own lip, turns his nose up at Theo making their faces closer still. But not touching yet.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do with his hands, brings his left one up to grip the pillow by his head, the one on which he was resting before Theo pulled him down.

“I was telling you something, and you’ve distracted me,” Stiles accuses. Theo’s leg moves closer and Stiles can feel the fabric of Theo’s sweatpants against him. _Just touch me or don’t_ he wants to tell him _stop stopping halfway._

“You can carry on speaking. I’m listening,” Theo reassures. And then he dives down, slowly, his nose touches the skin of Stiles’ jaw and there’s a shiver that runs down his back when he feels Theo’s breath just ghosting on his neck.

 _What are you doing_ , he wants to ask, but can’t find his voice or the will to break the bubble they’re in. He feels a little hazy with it.

“Uhmm,” Stiles closes his eyes, turns his head a little so he’s sort of facing the ceiling, but not completely, struggles to focus for a second as Theo’s leg presses closer. “So there was this,” he stops, swallows as Theo’s nose snuzzles his neck, softly, just below Stiles’ ear, and Stiles feels him inhale. _Shit._ “-this Deadpool and, we had to work together because everyone’s names were in there so, like, yeah-” Theo leaves the softest of kisses against the kiss of Stiles’ neck. So soft Stiles thinks it’s possible he imagined it. Goosebumps break out all over Stiles’ arms.

Theo hums to let him know he’s listening and Stiles is finding hard to fucking _breathe_ , let alone think and be coherent. He grips the pillow tighter.

“Then it turns out it was-” His breathing catches in his throat again as Theo’s fingers are suddenly ghosting just under Stiles’ belly button, where his shirt had ridden up from him being pulled. He can _feel_ the cocky smile that breaks on Theo’s face, even with his eyes half closed, feeling a bit like he’s underwater with the way every noise seems to die down and he can only focus on Theo’s breathing. “Turns out it was my ex’s biological father,” Stiles chuckles a little nervously, “as if things weren’t fucked up enough before.”

The fingers on Stiles’ stomach fall a bit heavier on his skin as they start sliding under Stiles’ shirt slowly, and warm, and Stiles’ mind shifts again to only being aware of those fingers. He almost misses Theo’s breathy laugh if he hadn’t felt it directly on his skin. _Fuck_ , he feels so hazy and hot and-, _fuck,_ how can this guy manage to have this effect on Stiles so quick. He presses his legs together again for a moment, feels the tension.

“Sounds like an awkward family dinner, if you ask me,” Theo comments, light as he makes his way towards Stiles’ chin. Stiles chuckles, it's all charged with something nervous and hard to control - it fits his heartbeat perfectly and he thinks, for an annoyed second that Theo must be loving being able to hear heartbeats just about now - as if his ego needed this…

“Well, I did meet her at a madhouse, so,” Stiles comments. Theo’s foot is around Stiles’ ankle, and his leg is pressing, knee bent slowly making his way in between Stiles’ legs.

Shit, he moves so slowly, so languid and so sure of himself, like every move is calculated to perfect driving Stiles fucking _crazy_ , it’s infuriating how well it’s working.

“You were in a madhouse? What for?” Theo wants to know, although he doesn’t stop his movements - not even a slight hesitation as his parted lips run over Stiles’ jaw again, but he won’t _fucking kiss him_.

“It’s….” Theo’s fingers reach the side of Stiles, just above his hip and the sensitivity of the place makes Stiles arch his back a little, cuts him off as he gasps softly and Theo’s leg slides perfectly the rest of the way in between Stiles’. It’s like Theo’s playing an instrument he perfected over the years. God fucking _damn_ it. “It’s a long story.” Stiles feels his muscles trembling a little, with how on edge he feels.

“I bet it is,” Theo answers, the hint of a mocking tone on his voice that does nothing but rile Stiles up more, “and I bet you’re not gonna tell me despite everything I’ve told you tonight,” he finishes. It’s not an accusing tone, it’s almost a conceited one, like he’s proving that he knows Stiles this well already.

Stiles hates how true it is.

He groans, can’t take it any longer, any of it, and lets go of the pillow to bring his hand around to grip the short hairs in the back of Theo’s head and bring him forward so that he’s finally, _fucking finally_ kissing his mouth properly.

As soon as they connect, Theo’s tongue is already making his way into Stiles’ mouth, just as hungry as Stiles. Stiles keeps his hand on the back of Theo’s head, arches his body until he’s flush against Theo for a moment and it feels so intense with the way it’s still slow, but it’s deep and it’s breathy and it’s hot like moving scalding lava in their bodies.

Stiles moves his hips, knows he’s half hard already just from this, wants to be pressed against Theo and when he does, he just stays there, still, as close to Theo as he can, feeling that intensity of the constant touching. They kiss, and they kiss and they kiss until Stiles’ jaw hurts and Theo doesn’t try anything else. Slow, lazy it’s what Stiles wants. He doesn’t want it to escalate, because this, just this, it feels _so good_. Theo seems to be in the same page and it’s fucking intoxicating.

When they break apart from each other, Stiles’ breath hitches as he opens his eyes to look at Theo, propped on his elbow again, looking down at Stiles - red messed up lips and that fucking sultry look in his eyes like he could devour Stiles just about now. God, it’s _sinful_ the way he looks.

Didn’t Stiles say something about just wanting to talk? Fuck, it’s honestly infuriating how, even after all of _that_ he can’t help himself around Theo. He tries to control his breathing, calm his heart. 

They take a few moments in which they just look at each other, in silence. And Stiles’ mind goes at the same time all over the place and to nowhere else but _Theo._

A whine leaves Stiles’ mouth and he grips Theo’s sweatshirt, pushes him down until his forehead is buried on his chest, “you’re a pain in my brain,” Stiles accuses him, but looks back at him with eyes half closed, pouts his lips, furrows his brow for a second. Theo’s fingers are still moving on his skin, under his shirt, and Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, feeling all sorts of warm and relaxed and content. He feels good tired.

“You bring that on yourself, with all the walls you pull up,” Theo tells him, cheeky smile spreading across his lips.

Stiles frowns, although he keeps his eyes closed and Theo pecks his lips gently, and Stiles totally lets him, kisses him back. “You don’t get to comment on the walls I put up,” he says.

“Uhmmm,” Theo hums again, Stiles opens his eyes to find him with that fake thinking face, pouted lips and squinted eyes. _Ridiculous_ , Stiles thinks, annoyed at how, yeah, not at all ridiculous, but completely fucking gorgeous Theo looks at all times “I think I do, considering I keep hitting all of them face first.”

Stiles chuckles, “It’s your own damn fault for keep trying.” 

(He won’t admit just now how much he wants Theo to try and try and try and keep trying. He won’t admit how much he kind of wants him to succeed.)

Theo plants his hand flat on Stiles’ side, curls it around him and brings him closer to himself, makes him turn s little and once again nuzzles his neck and makes Stiles close his eyes, feeling a blissful sort of calm he hasn’t felt in a very very long while, if ever. He tucks his right arm in between him and Theo, pressing it against Theo’s chest while doing it.

“I like to think I’m succeeding,” Theo mumbles, voice soft and a little croaky. He moves his hand from Stiles’ side, towards his stomach.

Stiles shakes his head, “no.” He says simply. But it’s playful, it’s light, it comes with a smile that you can hear. He’s lying on his back, but his head is turned towards Theo, who’s on his side still, facing Stiles.

“No? Not even a little bit?” Theo presses indignant but voice quieter still despite the amusement on his tone. His hand travels up Stiles’ chest, until it meets Stiles’ hand, tucked beneath his chin, in between the two boys.

“No, I’m that strong and unyielding,” Stiles answers, just now notices how his eyes feel heavy and faintly smiles at how ridiculous the conversation has turned. And then he lets Theo take his hand, intertwines their fingers against his chest.

He feels the breathy exhale that comes with Theo’s laugh against his cheek, notices vaguely the other boy is once again lying down on the bed next to him instead of propped up and instinctively shuffles a little towards Theo, until he’s the one almost nuzzling the other boy’s neck. He keeps his eyes closed. “Am I managing to crack the walls a little though?” Theo whispers, so very quiet. Stiles feels the vibrations of his voice against his skin where he’s touching Theo’s chest and his neck, feels Theo moving a little, feels his lips just resting against Stiles’ forehead now. “Am I making you soften?” 

Stiles can’t get a coherent lucid thought in anymore, feeling himself being pulled under by sleep, that creeped on him slowly, unannounced. He thinks he has a reply for Theo, that he doesn’t know if he says out loud or not. 

He knows that his walls aren’t breaking quite just yet. He knows himself well enough. He’s stubborn and insecure and paranoid. His walls are thicker than his head, he knows. He doesn’t know what is it about Theo and what he’s doing to him. 

But it speaks volumes how much softer those walls are, the way Stiles keeps holding Theo’s hand and lets himself fall asleep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like to come talk about this, or just talk in general, come [find me on tumblr](https://whereshiphappens.tumblr.com/)


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